


Gratitude

by ElleLL



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Gen, I know I'm evil, maybe a tiny bit OOC, mentions of Boston Worlds 2016, or maybe not, there's light at the end of the tunnel though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-23 14:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11992047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleLL/pseuds/ElleLL
Summary: Yuzuru had so many feelings going into Worlds 2016. Even more leaving Boston.Sometimes you have to fall all the way down before you can rise again.





	Gratitude

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. I wrote it as my own speculation about how someone in Yuzuru’s position may have felt going into Worlds Championship and once the competition ended as we know. It’s also meant as a tribute to the wonderful skater who inspired me to write it.
> 
> When it comes to reading/writing fanfictions, I have a sponge in place of a brain, so here you'll find influences from basically everything has been written in this fandom about Boston. In particular, Fundamental Forces by lady_valkyria.

 

_He was like the sudden summer storm, like the fire raging under strong winds, like the lightning striking._

_He came and changed everything, never to be caught, never to be stopped._

_But summer storms end, fires burn out, and lightings last only but a fleeting moment._

_Soon, he would be caught. Soon, he would be stopped._

 

Things were piling up inside him. Months of pain he endured, of insane pressure, of need to be perfect, _will_ to be perfect and live up to the impossible legend he had created. A legend that day after day felt more of a burden.

The doubts, he pushed them away. It wasn’t a question of _if_ he would be able to leave people in awe once more, but _when_.

Actually, not even that.

The date was already set, the place too.

March 30, April 1.

Boston.

The countdown had already started and he fought, gritting his teeth and going on, praying to hold on one day more, to withstand that sharp pain in his foot and the bad dreams screwing up his mind and all the ugly things that kept happening around him, vowing himself this time he was definitely going to make it. He would make all of them see.

_What the heck, don’t underestimate me!_

Pain was his old friend.

Endurance too.

He was good at it, he could make it. He could.

Could he?

 

The short program was nothing short of a miracle. So, now everyone expected him to win. He expected that from himself, too. He _wanted_ to win, so much it made him toss and turn for two nights.

He was so close. Finally he was _so close_. He only had to hold on just a little more. So many efforts and hardships only to reach _this point_. So many people had worked for this, and prayed for this, and now they could already taste it. He wouldn’t let them down. He wouldn’t let anyone down.

He would get his revenge, win back his title, take that gold everyone was so impatient to give him already.

_I’ll make you see._

He could make it, he’d faced worse, conquered worse, so he could make it. He knew he could.

He _would_.

 

He didn’t.

 

The free program was like his nightmares turning into reality, relentlessly stealing his breath, his hopes, his happiness.

Reality turned into a nightmare itself, haunting him at nights, depriving him of that much needed reprieve, too.

He went to sleep crying and woke up with the taste of tears embedded in his throat, choking him, his heart beating fast and the sense of oppression from his dark dreams never fading, melting into the gloominess of a reality he couldn’t even deny.

_It’s all right, it’s all right. It was only a bad dream._

But it wasn’t only a bad dream. It was what now he got to live.

 

The weight hadn't been easy to withstand before, but after Boston it became too much to bear.

He crashed. He crashed just like he’d already crashed on the ice.

While his foot underwent treatment and healing and he was left stranded to think and question all day long, he shattered into a billion pieces.

He tried to busy himself with university, music and videogames, his mind turned into his worst enemy, his body a close second.

And now, for the first time since that crash back in 2014, he felt that that was it.

_I’m done._

 

His mother wouldn’t let him wallow in his festering misery, of course, because she knew him too well. She knew he would never forgive himself if he stopped now, if he chose to surrender just when his damned foot was healing and he would soon be back on the ice, where he belonged. She wouldn't let him go down without a fight.

The rest of his family wouldn’t allow that, either. They came straight from home, from Sendai, just to hug him and make him feel that kind of comfort that words from the other side of the world weren’t enough to convey.

He loved them for this.

But he hated them too. It would be so easy to just let it all go, to resign himself to this bitterness, this frustration always gnawing at him.

To end this old, old battle against his body, against his mind.

And even if he didn’t want to be done with skating... what if skating was already done with him?

_You can’t go any further, you aren’t good enough. You did what you could already. You did your best._

_Let others fight. You can stop now._

_You can rest._

He wanted to rest so badly, not his body, which was fed up already, but his mind. He wanted to rest from _who he was_. From _who he’d been_.

Yuzuru Hanyu, the one who made the world wonder.

The one who made the world disappointed.

_The one aiming for the stars, only to turn into a shooting star and crash back on the earth, consumed in its own fire, leaving only desolation in its wake._

 

His friends wouldn’t have any of this. He had friends, not many, but a few he knew were sincere.

As he slowly – oh so slowly – relearned jumps and everything else from scratch, they texted him and called him during ice shows, telling him that everyone missed him. That he would get better and he would be with them once again.

 

Plushenko, his long time idol, sent him a letter, telling him he _knew_ Yuzuru was strong enough to overcome this.

Plushenko had been in his place, holding the weight of perfection and facing the struggle of injuries and months of those same bitterness, doubts and frustration.

_But he’d made it. So Yuzuru would._

Ms. Marie Lundmark had sent her regards too. He remembered she’d been the ISU representative who gave him his first world medal – Junior Words gold medal – back in 2010, when everything was easier and shone so bright. She’d also been there at Cup of China. He had no idea that she held him in such regard, but it made him feel very grateful.

He also got from Mrs. Tatiana Tarasova a CD with a music she thought would suit him. Her thoughtfulness moved him. He’d felt so ashamed for having disappointed so many people, Mrs. Tarasova included. He’d gone to apologize to her in Boston, but she’d been very kind.

This one kindness was even greater.

 

Whenever he received a word of encouragment he tried his best to smile, and then he wept a little. Tears of gratitude and shame. Because he was making all of them worry, wasn't he?

Everyone kept telling him he would make it. He kept telling everyone he knew that, too, and he was OK. Things would get better, he would come back stronger and not let that regrettable free skate in Boston be his legacy.

_And yet, he was the one who had to believe it, wasn't he?_

He had to believe he could make it. But it was hard.

 

At TCC everyone was warm and supportive. He felt like a sinner, for having let down so many people, for having frustrated so many efforts... and yet, even when he got insufferable because of his own frustration and threw the ice looks that would have withered forests and melted stones, they had for him only smiles and infinite patience.

Maybe Tracy was the toughest one there, leading him with firm hand and sometimes standing her ground against him, but always understanding and supportive, like a mother. Maybe because Tracy was a mother herself, she could read right through him. Somehow, she was always able to understand when he needed a push or even a shake and when, instead, all he needed was a squeeze of his hand and a pat on his back.

Or a warm hug.

He had liked hugs before. Now he liked them even more.

And he needed till the last one of them.

 

Then there were the fans.

He’d restrained himself from searching on the internet after he went back to Toronto. His mom had asked him not to, Brian too, and in truth everything felt still too raw for him to bear any more jabs about him not being able to deliver when it matters, any more talk about not being himself anymore or having already shown his best, a best so high it had crushed him. He didn’t want to read more about his mental frailty, because he was already feeling very frail. Very frail.

But then, his sponsor brought him a whole album – a _huge_ album – of messages written by the fans. The ones who had wished they could go and cheer him on at the ice shows and he had let down because _he just couldn' t skate_. The ones he had already disappointed in Boston.

They were so many, the messages. And so _warm_.

He took the habit to shuffle through the pages whenever he was feeling a bit down, to read bits here and there.

_His fans._

He could feel their worry. He could feel their warmth. He could feel their encouragement.

And their _gratitude_.

Their gratitude was what gave him hope that maybe he hadn't totally failed. Maybe he would be able to soar again, and show them how grateful he was for their unwavering support, too.

He got so many messages from non-Japanese fans, too. He already knew Chinese fans had taken a liking to him, despite all his struggles in Shanghai the previous season, but he found out he had fans from all over the world, even from countries where figure skating was close to non-existent. A lot of fans on the internet, who had never had the chance to watch him live but tracked down till the smallest snippet of video of his performances and felt so touched that they would spent _beautiful words_ and share _beautiful feelings_ , or would even travel all the way to watch him, because to them _he_ had made it worth to travel at such distance, spend money and go to ice skating competitions. Because thanks to him they’d started – or gone back to – loving skating.

He felt overwhelmed by such dedication from the fans, because he felt undeserving, and he wanted to thank each one of them from the bottom of his heart for their kind thoughts, their gifts and their support.

It was his old burden getting heavier... yet, somehow, it felt good too. It meant his performances had reached the hearts of the audience and had stayed there.

As a skater, that was an achievement that went beyond podiums and gold medals and rankings. It was some kind of legacy. _His legacy._ It was what gave him _hope_ , too.

 

_He would be a calm fire burning bright and steady, a soothing rain nourishing the soil, a stream that could sometimes run wild and maybe take a few detours, but always found its way back to the vast ocean. He would be the ocean too, enfolding everything, always changing yet always large and deep and true._

_He would be the storm, he would be the calm._

_He would be stronger. He would be better._

_He would come back and skate. He would skate with fire, he would skate with grace._

_And gratitude._

He would aim for the stars again, and fight hard, he would try and fly and maybe he would crash again, but he wouldn’t give up, because even if he kept his gaze up there at the sky, his heart was down here, with all the people who cherished him and supported him, ready to help him get back on his feet if he fell, ready to push him further and always, always welcome him back with a smile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a couple months ago and I felt positively moved when I read in one of Yuzuru’s most recent interviews how much he cares and feels grateful for the support he receives. So I kinda had to post it.  
> I’m a sucker for angst so this take on Worlds 2016 and its aftermath may be a little OOC (and the chronology may be slightly messed up because... my plot LOL).  
> Yuzuru himself said he felt like “refreshed” after Boston because the doubts and bad images he was having before stopped, but from some bits he and other people let slip I get the feeling he’s downplayed a lot how bad those months after Boston were for him, being forced away from the ice and away from his home and Japan and his fans (while everyone else was having fun).  
> Yuzuru is a fierce competitor and I have no doubts he is mentally very though , but even his fighting spirit has a limit, even if it’s an abnormally high one.
> 
> As far as I know Plushenko has never sent a letter to Yuzu, but I thought it would be nice because I believe if there is someone able to understand the solitude and the hardship of being expected to be always the best it’s him. He had his unfair share of injuries, too, so he and Yuzu have a lot in common.  
>   
> The bit about of Mrs Marie Lundmark is my invention, too, but it’s true she was the one who gave Yuzu the Junior Worlds gold medal in 2010 and she was there during CoC 2014 (she’s the lady with the pink jacket in some footage of Yuzu being tended to). And she was in Helsinki to award Yuzu his second world gold medal. ^^  
>   
> Instead the bit about Russian commentator and former coach Tatiana Tarasova is entirely true. [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zI7YRAu1sy0) a link where she gushes about Yuzu’s "thank you" letter, if you haven’t still watched it.  
>   
> About the album of fan messages, you can find a reference [here](https://yuzusorbet.tumblr.com/post/152726443502/pgs-message-to-yuzu-event-during-the.).  
> Yuzuru has alien superpowers when it comes to perceive fans’ love, and his gratitude is always just so heartfelt and touching. Let’s continue supporting him!
> 
> Finally... have you really read all the notes till now? Wow, I’m impressed. Here a BIG THANK YOU for you brave souls. ^^  
> No native English speaker here, so there may be (a lot of) mistakes.  
> Any feedback is appreciated. Comments too. (*says the one who never leaves a comment* whoops... well, I suppose a few kudos may suffice :P )


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